Sunday, January 27, 2019

At the Mount of Olives...

It's Holocaust Remembrance Day

I've flipped through my poems
and am led to share one today about the "apple of God's eye" 
from my 2006 Israel pilgrimage
which included a visit to the breathtaking Mount of Olives...

Image credit: Getty Images


THE WIND EXTINGUISHES OUR HAVDALAH CANDLE
AT THE MOUNT OF OLIVES

We gather to watch the sun go down
over the Mount of Olives—
The view, breathtaking in its splendor
O Jerusalem

The setting sun swathes
the Dome of the Rock
in an ebbing wash of burnished gold
as we huddle close together
It is cold. The wind whips us
this Saturday evening in November
as Sabbath closes in the Land

A blue and white Israeli flag
patterned after a prayer shawl
fades to a shadow
as it flaps heartily in the breeze

We sing Days of Elijah
Shalom, Shalom Jerusalem
The Shema

Rabbi Jonathan attempts to light
the Havdalah candle
but the wind is too gusty
and the flame keeps going out

He sounds the shofar over the city
prays the Aaronic Benediction
prays for the peace
of this turbulent city
named for peace

All the while
we are keenly mindful
that a day is coming
perhaps not very long from now
when Yeshua, our Messiah
will return to Earth—
            to this very place
                        Hallelujah—
                                    Hallelu-Yah!

Maude Carolan Pych

Sunday, January 20, 2019

Prepared for Pilgrimage

Recalling my pilgrimage to Israel
in 2006...

Photo credit: dreamstime.com

THE VERY SOUND OF HEBREW

Israel Pilgrimage—2006

Israir Terminal JFK, October 2006

I wait to board—
full of anticipation
carry-on at my knee
guide-book in hand
heart already
in the land to which
we’re bound
pilgrim feet, still
hours away from stepping, at last
into the Land of the Book

Announcements emanate
from the sound system
in Hebrew

probably
arrivals, departures
boarding information
do not leave bags
unattended

perhaps
Aaron David Horowitz
there is a call for you
at the ticket counter

or maybe
Flight #743
is delayed
due to inclement weather

I do not know
the language                                  

All my pilgrim ears hear
is something ancient
and deep

baruchas—
the holy sound
of prayer

Maude Carolan Pych

Sunday, January 13, 2019

A Visitor at the Prayer Meeting...

Here's a poem from several years ago...


Image credit: clipartmag.com


I REMEMBER GEORGE

I remember George.
He came into our Catholic prayer group,
fresh out of Protestant Bible school,
like a walking, talking Bible,
concordance and commentary,
rolled into one.
This young, big, burly carpenter,
prayed and sang the loudest,
raised his hands the highest;
had as much fire in his spirit
as in his flaming hair.
He spoke in King James English,
and explained things to us,
like foreshadowings and grace
and expounded upon
the Tabernacle in the wilderness,
almost verbatim
from the Old Testament.
I’d never heard anyone
talk like that before,
so I asked George,
how long he’d been studying Scripture.
He told me, six years.
I read Scripture every day,
figured, in six years,
I’d quote the Bible, like George.

Six years came and went,
seven, eight, ten, more.
Still, I couldn’t
quote like George.
Once, in prayer,
I asked the Lord, why,
faithful to my reading
though I was,
why I still could not
quote Scripture like George.
Tender, loving words
seeped into me.
“It is for George
to know My Word,” He said,
“I called him to be a minister.
It is for you
to know my heart.”
Finally, I rested
in His loving peace,
knowing those tender words
were true.

Maude Carolan

Sunday, January 6, 2019

God Said, "I Am."

Image credit: thescripturesays.org



I AM WHO I AM
Exodus 3:14

God said—
I Am

He was utterly
straightforward

Exists—

Is
Am

The most important
question
            answered
in the audible voice
of the Almighty
Himself

even without
the asking

Tell them, He told Moses

I Am
sent you

That He Is
Was
and Ever Shall Be—

is

the greatest
            manifestation
                        of our peace

Maude Carolan Pych